An old wheelbarrow lay upside down on the ground and Brit moved toward it. His foot came down on a twig. The snap rang in his ears. The perp swung around, gun aimed, and Brit dove for his cover. The smell of wet earth filled his nose as gunfire erupted.
“Don’t do this!” Brit yelled, rolling to his side, using the wheelbarrow for cover. “It’s not a good day to die.”
“We got you covered.” Quarles’ voice rang in the frigid air as if to remind the lowlife that he was out numbered.
But Brit would have been a hell of a lot happier if the ass was outnumbered by one more. They needed a guy behind the fence. Then again, this idiot didn’t know how many there were. “Watch out, Tompkins. He might come your way and try for the fence,” Brit yelled.
All was fair in shootouts—even lying. Brit sighed and spoke to the man again. “My partner has been aching to kill somebody today. You’re going to make his day if you try to make that alley.”
Quarles must have figured out what Brit was up to, because he saw his partner pick up a rock and toss it at the fence.
Brit saw the lowlife jerk his gaze toward the fence. “Be ready,” Brit called to the non-existent officer.
Silence fell on the backyard.
“You don’t want to die tonight,” Brit spoke to the perp again. “Do the right thing.”
“Okay, I give up,” came the voice. The gun hit the ground with a hollow thud.
“Come out with your hands up,” Brit said. “Lay face down on the ground and cross your legs and arms.”
“Do it now!” Quarles ordered.
Brit saw the man step out from behind the tree.
“Down!” Brit yelled, frowning when the man moved into the spilled moonlight. Unless Humphrey had just lost about four inches of height and dyed his hair blond, the man falling to his knees wasn’t him. So who the hell had they snagged?
~
For two hours, Cali had roamed Brit’s house with silent steps, determined not to wake Susan. Yet Cali’s emotions were not so silent. Her emotions flipped from anger to desire then to fear. Anger that Brit didn’t believe her. Fear that he might be the next cop killed. And then desire. Want it or not, still angry at the man or not, the memory of their kiss, of his gentle touch, had her body tingling in places that hadn’t tingled in a very long time.
Oh heck, who was she kidding? Her body and those places had never tingled like this before.
For the first time in her life, she felt she understood what the big fuss was about sex. Those few moments of feeling on fire with passion, feeling submersed in the world of want, had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Sure she’d enjoyed sex before, but never had it felt so intense. She’d never been so lost in it, or maybe it was that she’d never been so present in the moment. Whatever it was, it was different.
Cali moved back into the kitchen and looked at the open laundry room door. Mama Cat’s gold eyes stared up at her. She didn’t look too approachable.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend. Actually, I could use a friend.”
The cat hissed and disappeared. She didn’t want to be friends. Cali just stood there, eyes trained on the door, in hopes of getting a peek at the kittens. No luck. It seemed mama had warned them not to meow to strangers.
Feeling closed in, Cali stood by the window in the living room, waiting for the day to arrive as if her confusion about last night’s events would clear with the sun.
As the sky turned bright orange, Cali didn’t feel clearer, except she knew she needed some time to think. And she couldn’t do that here. The phone book lay open where she’d left it earlier. She punched in the number. Brit wouldn’t be happy, but she needed to think about what was right for her.
She waited by a window until the cab arrived. Afraid Susan might wake up, and not wanting to face her, Cali hurried out. Walking out the door, her purse slipped off her shoulder and landed at her feet. When a light inside came on in the extra bedroom, Cali snatched up her purse and took off.
~
The sun had risen an hour ago, but even in the daylight, Brit and Quarles were in the dark about the man they’d arrested. The bastard had lawyered up and refused to talk.
Adams wasn’t happy. “So you’re telling me that you don’t know if this lowlife is involved with either of these cases?”
Brit slumped in a chair, too tired to fight. “We know who he isn’t. He isn’t Humphrey or Nolan Bright, the other band member. And until Trooper Garland is able to talk—which according to his doctors won’t be until tomorrow—we won’t have an ID on the man who shot him. I think the guy’s connected to the jewelry case, not Keith’s murder. The gun our guy used is at the lab. If it’s a match to the one used on Garland, we’ll know.”
“So basically you have shit,” Adams growled.
“That pretty much sums it up,” Quarles stated, his tone colder than a witch’s tit, his shoulders held ramrod straight.